Sunday = Pajama Day
Sunday, 19 November, was a pajama day but not for the best of reasons.
Since my teens, I've always battled insomnia...not every night...but at least two or three nights a week. In this case, I'd finished up the week with a two-night sleep deficit: two consecutive nights where I gotten less than five hours of sleep each night. Thursday night's insomnia was the worst. Because I had to get up at 7:30 on Friday morning, I ended up sleeping only two hours that night. On Saturday night, however, I was asleep before midnight and didn't wake up until the alarm went off at 8:00 a.m. Of course, when the alarm went off, I still felt miserable: I am NOT a morning person. About three times a year, I actually feel good when I wake up.
I put on my slippers and a sweater over my pajamas and went downstairs for breakfast: oatmeal with blueberries and coffee. I was all out of milk, so I ate my oatmeal without milk and drank my coffee black. After I finished eating, I put my oatmeal pot, my bowl, and my coffee cup in the dishwasher, then washed up a few things that I don't put in the dishwasher: my French press coffee maker, my water glass, a couple of knives left over from vegetable prep. As I stood at the sink, the world started whirling around me and I gagged (unproductively) a couple of times.
I've had vertigo before, and I'm very cautious when it strikes. In 2015, when we were living in the condo, I had my first episode and ended up falling and cracking my head badly. (The gruesome details are HERE if you are interested.) That side of my skull is still a bit deformed...not noticeably, I hope...enough that I can feel the difference. So I finished wiping up the counters and went right up to bed, holding on to something every step of the way.
As soon as I lay down, I started to gag again, but this time it went further than just gagging. I made the toilet that time and the second time it happened; thank heavens I live in a small house with a bathroom on every floor. After the second attack, I was sure that my up-chucking was over and, indeed, I was right. I went back to bed and dozed off and on for two hours. In between mini-naps, I worried that this time the vertigo would stay; it would be permanent. (I can worry with the best of them.) In fact, when I lay down, the whole room whirled every time I moved my head. Two hours later, I had to turn my head quickly to get that effect, so I was improving a little.
I was in no condition to read, so after two hours in bed, I made my way, carefully, downstairs again where I could watch TV sitting up on the couch. I also called Samantha to ask her to pick me up some chicken soup. However, she was in furthest New Jersey and wouldn't be home until sometime in the evening. My son John was next on the list, and he was available, even if not immediately. I wasn't really hungry at that point, but I had gotten out brook trout for dinner, and I knew that wasn't happening.
John brought me a quart of chicken soup from Whole Foods: more than I could possible eat in one sitting but wholesome and delicious. We sat and gossiped for at least an hour and a half. By the time he left, the vertigo was gone and I felt okay, though still not up to pan-frying brook trout. (That's tonight's dinner.) The whole episode had lasted less than ten hours.
I have a few theories about what happened:
1.) I had some sort of a bug that triggered both the vertigo and the gagging.
2.) No bug; I just had a severe attack of vertigo and that made my lose my breakfast.
3.) The vertigo was triggered by my fatigue, which in turn made me throw up.
I kind of like the third theory because, after sleeping eight hours over-night and napping fitfully after I lay down, I still went to bed Sunday night at my usual time and slept for another eight hours. That is an unusual amount of sleep for me.
The take-home from this is, Who knows? I just shouldn't be surprised if the vertigo reoccurs. I need to keep a can of chicken soup at hand at all times. FanSee
Since my teens, I've always battled insomnia...not every night...but at least two or three nights a week. In this case, I'd finished up the week with a two-night sleep deficit: two consecutive nights where I gotten less than five hours of sleep each night. Thursday night's insomnia was the worst. Because I had to get up at 7:30 on Friday morning, I ended up sleeping only two hours that night. On Saturday night, however, I was asleep before midnight and didn't wake up until the alarm went off at 8:00 a.m. Of course, when the alarm went off, I still felt miserable: I am NOT a morning person. About three times a year, I actually feel good when I wake up.
I put on my slippers and a sweater over my pajamas and went downstairs for breakfast: oatmeal with blueberries and coffee. I was all out of milk, so I ate my oatmeal without milk and drank my coffee black. After I finished eating, I put my oatmeal pot, my bowl, and my coffee cup in the dishwasher, then washed up a few things that I don't put in the dishwasher: my French press coffee maker, my water glass, a couple of knives left over from vegetable prep. As I stood at the sink, the world started whirling around me and I gagged (unproductively) a couple of times.
I've had vertigo before, and I'm very cautious when it strikes. In 2015, when we were living in the condo, I had my first episode and ended up falling and cracking my head badly. (The gruesome details are HERE if you are interested.) That side of my skull is still a bit deformed...not noticeably, I hope...enough that I can feel the difference. So I finished wiping up the counters and went right up to bed, holding on to something every step of the way.
As soon as I lay down, I started to gag again, but this time it went further than just gagging. I made the toilet that time and the second time it happened; thank heavens I live in a small house with a bathroom on every floor. After the second attack, I was sure that my up-chucking was over and, indeed, I was right. I went back to bed and dozed off and on for two hours. In between mini-naps, I worried that this time the vertigo would stay; it would be permanent. (I can worry with the best of them.) In fact, when I lay down, the whole room whirled every time I moved my head. Two hours later, I had to turn my head quickly to get that effect, so I was improving a little.
I was in no condition to read, so after two hours in bed, I made my way, carefully, downstairs again where I could watch TV sitting up on the couch. I also called Samantha to ask her to pick me up some chicken soup. However, she was in furthest New Jersey and wouldn't be home until sometime in the evening. My son John was next on the list, and he was available, even if not immediately. I wasn't really hungry at that point, but I had gotten out brook trout for dinner, and I knew that wasn't happening.
John brought me a quart of chicken soup from Whole Foods: more than I could possible eat in one sitting but wholesome and delicious. We sat and gossiped for at least an hour and a half. By the time he left, the vertigo was gone and I felt okay, though still not up to pan-frying brook trout. (That's tonight's dinner.) The whole episode had lasted less than ten hours.
I have a few theories about what happened:
1.) I had some sort of a bug that triggered both the vertigo and the gagging.
2.) No bug; I just had a severe attack of vertigo and that made my lose my breakfast.
3.) The vertigo was triggered by my fatigue, which in turn made me throw up.
I kind of like the third theory because, after sleeping eight hours over-night and napping fitfully after I lay down, I still went to bed Sunday night at my usual time and slept for another eight hours. That is an unusual amount of sleep for me.
The take-home from this is, Who knows? I just shouldn't be surprised if the vertigo reoccurs. I need to keep a can of chicken soup at hand at all times. FanSee